


Flute

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter), Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Series: The Mountains Are The Same [8]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Buckle Up Kids We're Going To The Feels Place, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Podfic Welcome, because immortan joe, creepy Organic Mechanic, implied past Immortan Joe, implied past sexual assault, trans war boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flute: A usually insecure fin or flake of rock or ice. The grooves on a drill bit. An instrument that produces its sound from the flow of air across an opening.<br/><i></i><br/>“Who is she?” Ace asked after the woman left. He was stretched out next to Furiosa, torso a little elevated on a cushion. He had his head turned so he could see her in profile. <i>Who is she to you?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Flute

Ace woke with the back of his neck prickling, the feeling of somebody watching him. When he opened his eyes, a woman was standing a few paces from the bed. Older, dressed in an unfamiliar way, and with the bearing of a commander. She had a rifle slung across her back.

“Need to check on my girl there, didn’t want to startle you fellas,” she said.

Ace grunted, unsure what to do with this. He thought he recognised her from the women who had brought Furiosa to the Mechanic’s workroom, before, but he wasn’t sure. He was vaguely aware that Furiosa’s arrival - rumour was the Immortan was dead, and Ace thought he’d have to be for Furiosa to be still alive - heralded major upheaval at the Citadel, but exactly what that meant he wasn’t sure, and it galled him.

Furiosa was propped up by Kompass, leaning against his chest and seemingly at ease. Her breath was short but without the rattle that had panicked them all, Furiosa included, so much earlier. After the earlier rearrangement when she’d fought both them and herself for breath, Ace had been too tired to move back to the ledge and simply sunk down where he was, sitting at the foot end of the bed with his feet stretched out along Kompass’ hip.

He nudged Kompass with his foot.

Kompass woke, and Ace just gestured at the woman, not having enough breath to explain it. Luckily Kompass was quick on the uptake. He patted Furiosa’s hand, and she stirred.

“Boss, there’s a... an Organic Mechanic here wants to look at you.”

The strange woman frowned fiercely.

“Don’t call me that, sonny. Never met the man and I hate him already. No respect for the human body. _I’m_ a _healer_.”

Kompass gave her a startled look, and repeated the unfamiliar word. “A... a healer, boss.”

“Gale,” Furiosa rasped softly, and the woman smiled.

“The very one, chick.” Her voice warmed considerably, and Furiosa’s lips twitched into the distant hint of a smile. “Can I have a look at you?”

Furiosa hummed with a tiny nod. The Ace found himself tensing in readiness, and the others shifted too.

“That all right with these fellas around or should I boot them out for a bit?”

Ace and Kompass both bridled. They might both be injured, but that didn’t mean—!

The woman had the kind of expression that said she would have a good go at punting them out if Furiosa gave the word.

“ ‘s all right,” Furiosa murmured.

Ace blinked, because this.. this didn’t seem like the Boss. Furiosa didn’t just placidly agree to medical care. She could not have known this woman more than two days.

That this Mechanic asked the _injured_ if she wanted others in the room was just as strange. Ace had never heard the Organic Mechanic ask an injured anything; it would be like asking an engine which part it thought was defective.  

 

Ace remembered back when she’d first become Imperator and he’d discovered that she would rather crawl into a cool alcove to die of a snakebite before she would go to the Organic Mechanic. He’d found her and pulled her out of the dark recess in the rock to carry her to the Mechanic’s workshop himself, all the while cursing him and struggling weakly in his grip.

The Mechanic was never pleasant, never curious, and brutally honest in what he was able to do with War Boy bodies and what wasn’t worth his efforts. Getting his attention meant you were still worth fixing. The Ace didn’t understand why she would avoid a tune up. But seeing the way the Organic Mechanic had looked at her had explained a lot.

The Mechanic had given Furiosa an oily smile and put his hand on her hip even though the snake bite was on her arm.His fearless new Imperator had frozen up in Ace’s arms like a feral in headlights, gone completely still and tense like she was caught between fight and flight. She'd looked like she was going to be sick.

The Mechanic either had not noticed or not cared, and gone on about how good it would be to get his hands on her again and how he would be taking _very_ good care of her.

It had made Ace’s skin crawl.

He had taken the liberty to spontaneously expand his job description, and decided that it now included staying by his Imperator’s side while she was getting medical care. When he’d had to go he’d sent for Sprocket, and they’d worked out a system on-the-fly to ensure that one of the crew was always in the room with her. The Mechanic had been deeply annoyed with this, but none of them had budged, and the naked relief in the Imperator’s eyes whenever she woke and found one of them in the room had been worth it.

 

To have this ‘healer’ woman accepted without protest now goes against many hundred-day’s habit.

The woman stepped closer and leaned in, half over Kompass, to examine Furiosa. Felt her heartbeat, listened to her lungs. Then, with a glance at Ace, Kompass, and the half-awake Rachet, bared the boss’s midriff and examined the two bandaged stab wounds. They tensed in preparation to move Furiosa away from her touch. The woman only eyed them briefly and continued her examination, humming in a way Ace thought meant that the situation was acceptable.

When she was done she re-dressed the wounds and covered the Boss back up. Then she took a glass bottle with mother’s milk from the bag she had slung across her body, and put it in Furiosa’s hand, and leaned in to press her forehead gently against the Imperator’s.  

“A couple of women send you this with their fondest greetings.”

Furiosa hummed in sleepy acknowledgement.

Ace knew this meant something, something important about the power shift that was going on in the Citadel right now, but he didn’t have enough information to know exactly what it meant. It frustrated him— always knowing what was going on was part of his _job_.

“Holy mothers,” the woman suddenly said. Ace looked at Furiosa, worried, but the healer was looking at him. “No, don’t move. You were at the Organic Mechanic place,” she scowled, “did nobody bother to look at this?”

“Uh,” Ace rasped, unclear on what kind of response she was looking for, here.

She huffed. “Of course. I’ll come round with something to bind your ribs.”

Ace knew his cracked ribs had to look all sorts of colours - he hadn’t been able to put on warpaint like normal, which would have hidden most of it. The real question was, why would this woman care?

“Bloody miracle you haven’t punctured your lung.” She pointed at Furiosa, then at Ace. “Neither of you is to leave this room for at least a week. Bed rest. Trip to the alcove with the sand bucket is the furthest you’ll move.” She looked Ace in the eyes, ”Is that clear?” the woman said, like she had the right to give orders like that.

“...yes, Gale,” Furiosa rasped, smiling a little. “Clear."

Ace was still baffled by this woman, her easily assumed authority and the way Furiosa bowed to it, _smiled_ at it, but he was willing to take her cue. He nodded slightly, and she seemed satisfied by this.

“Good. Now.” The woman looked at Kompass and Rachet. “Anybody else here just casually dying? I can’t be havin’ with that.”

 

* * *

 

“Who is she?” Ace asked after the woman left. He was stretched out next to Furiosa, torso a little elevated on a cushion. He had his head turned so he could see her in profile. _Who is she to you?_

“She’s of the Vuvalini. My people…” Furiosa murmured, her eyes closed.

“I thought _we_ were your people.”

Her eyes snapped open, and for a moment she looked _stricken_ , and Ace didn’t know if he felt pleased or dismayed, satisfied or guilty.

He was still new to the understanding that what he said mattered to her in more than just the practical.

“I grew up in a green place,” she whispered to the rock-hewn ceiling. Ace made a noise of interest, because he’d always assumed she’d come from among the Wretched. Just that admission seemed to have exhausted her though, because her eyes drifted shut and she was quiet for a while.

Ace idly wondered if that green place had motorbikes. And long guns. The Citadel had always had bikes, but the War Boys generally considered them inferior to cars, something you did time on until you were deemed worthy of a wheel. The Imperator though, when she'd first gotten the War Rig, had told off the outriders for that attitude. And when they'd been lukewarm about the merits of skillful riding, she'd taken one of their bikes on a training ride and showed them such riding as none of them had ever seen before.

She’d started slow, as if relearning a limb after a break, but then suddenly just _fanged it_ before they could catch their breath to heckle. Roared through the course with enough speed to take the scars right off the skin, cutting turns so tight it was a wonder she didn’t fireball out. She'd kneeled, shaky at first, then firm, then stood up and shot her crossbow, hitting the practice target perfectly from a hundred paces away.

She hadn't learned that as a scout or patrol rider, or he'd have heard about it.

The bike then barreled towards the group at top speed, a wild light to her gaze, but before they could decide to coward out and lunge away, she yanked the bike to the side to a perfect stop, spraying them all with dirt.

“ _So_?” she challenged them, flushed with excitement, but there'd been something in her eyes, something happy-sad he hadn't understood. Perhaps he did, now. Perhaps it had been the memory of a childhood in some mysterious green place.

“Were you traded?” he asked, when the rhythm of her breathing indicated that she’d surfaced.

“We were raided. I was... ripped away.”

Ace hummed in acknowledgement, letting that sink in. He’d always thought she’d come from the sea of unending refugees that washed up at the Citadel’s base, thought she had reached the highest place any woman could hope for, to bear the Immortan’s sons, and been dismissed for being unsuitable.

He’d always thought that her drive to make it among the War Boys, to become Imperator, had been about proving to the Immortan that she could serve him, even if it wasn’t how she’d originally been intended.  Ace remembered the time when, after reporting to the Immortan, one of the boys had eagerly asked her what the Immortan was like. She’d gone deathly still, and the boy had hurriedly apologised for the impertinence of the question. Ace had always assumed she did not want to be reminded of her failure as breeder, and tried to make sure the boys wouldn’t mention it.

Her face was already slack with sleep again when Ace next looked. He had the vague sense that he'd found an edge under a sand dune, something that might be big, but he had no idea yet of what shape it might be, and he wasn't sure if he had permission to uncover it.

 

* * *

 

When the crew was first coming together, the Imperator took to inviting some of the crew to her room sometimes after a run, when they were hurt. It made sense; she didn't like leaving them on the Organic Mechanic's cold ledges, preferred them where she could keep an eye on them. It was warmer and lighter in her room, easier to breathe with bruised ribs. It was unusual, bringing them up for their comfort instead of hers, but they'd gotten used to it. She wanted them all in good working order, body-engines running smoothly, so it made sense.

There had been no injuries on this time, apart from a sprained wrist, which nobody thought qualified. They'd done their usual run to Gas Town and then the Bullet Farm, where they'd then retrieved the Immortan's newest wife.

The girl had skin that was a beautifully unblemished light brown and long black hair intriguingly made into many little cords. The Bullet Farmer said she had been rescued from a Wasteland tribe a few months ago. Unfortunately she had not understood her rescuers meant well by saving her from a life in the wastes, and she certainly did not seem to appreciate the honour she was being afforded in being taken to become Wife to the Immortan. She'd had to be bound - gently - and put under guard in the back of the War Rig's cab.

The Imperator looked hard and cold, and Ace could imagine how she might feel at the girl's ingratitude at being given the honour of the Immortan's regard, when it had been so painfully taken away from the Boss and was missed so much. He put Sprocket in the cab with them, as a last line of defence for the girl if they should be attacked and so that the Boss might concentrate on driving.

Sprocket at least had the good sense not to mention the Boss' past, though from the times Ace dropped by the cab, the girl wasn't shy about alternatively imploring and hurling accusations at the Boss in whispered snatches.

_(“Do you even care that they killed my family to get to me?”)_

_(“I can survive in the Wastes, I know how. Just turn your back…”)_

_(“You’d free me if you had any goodness in you.”)_

A prisoner would have been gagged by now, but they couldn't touch the new Wife.

By the time they arrived at the Citadel the Boss's jaw looked so tight Ace expected to hear the cracking of her teeth any moment, and she wasn't yet done with her tasks. She now had to lead the new Wife to where the Organic Mechanic would examine her, where she would be given the Immortan's mark, and finally deliver her to the vault.

"Need me to send somebody with you?" Ace asked, watching together with the Boss as the new Wife was carefully handed down from the cab.

"No. I'll - no." Her voice sounded tight and raw, and she looked grim. "You and he," she nodded to Sprocket as he jumped down from the cab, "sleep in my room tonight."

It was the kind of low-voiced command that was almost, not quite, a question, and Ace understood that this was an Indulgence, heard the implied 'Unless you really don't—'

He nodded, because while this was new, no reason to have them in her room, nobody was hurt— if she wanted them there, they would be. "Of course, Boss."

He watched her walk away, her flesh hand firm but careful on the new Wife's upper arm, and wondered what she wouldn't give to trade places.

 

She was already in her room when they arrived there, still in her dusty leathers and her arm on. The scent of burned flesh clung to her hair. She'd washed her face, but her eyes looked red and sore.

Ace didn't quite know what to do with the confused ball of urges to— to— _do_ something, _anything_ , to make this better. He held out the mealworm biscuits he'd brought for her, guessing she hadn't wanted to go to the meal halls to face the questions everybody would have about the Immortan's chrome new Wife.

She accepted the rations silently and sat down heavily on the wide ledge in the window opening, looking like she wasn't sure what to do with them now they'd come.

Ace met Sprocket's eyes. She had to be missing the Immortan especially keenly tonight, but maybe they could— it felt blasphemous, but maybe they could at least comfort her? It wouldn't be the same, but Ace imagined what he'd do if he had a Wife as shiny as her, imagined how the Immortan might have held her close, and hoped they could be Something.

The two of them nodded at each other, and went to sit by the Boss' side. Ace let the outside of his arm brush against hers, offering his presence, and her skin felt cool. This close, he could hear her breath hitch a little.

While she ate, she slowly leaned against his arm, her spine relaxing from its rigid stance by degrees, and finally he slid his arm around her so she could lean into his side. She half-heartedly fumbled at the belts of her arm.

"Let me, Boss?" Sprocket said, and when she nodded, undid the buckles for her, carefully slipped off the heavy arm and put it away on its wall hook. He brought back with him the small jar of ointment she kept on a ledge near the hook, and massaged some into where the skin of her stump was rubbed red and raw.

Furiosa sighed, sinking heavier against Ace's side.

They helped her out of her boots and the black waist brace that spread the pressure of her belts. Sprocket brought her a damp cloth and she let him wipe at her shorn hair, getting the worst of the smell of burnt flesh out. Finally she just sat there, exhaustedly staring at her mattress like she didn't know what to do now.

"Boss, if you've changed your— if you prefer for us to—" Ace tried very gently. They weren't used to seeing her like this, uncertain and seeming to seek their touch as much as tensing from it. He was sure she was regretting asking them to come - how could they possibly ease the pain of missing the Immortan?

"Please stay," she whispered, eyes still fixed on the mattress, and then went to it, laid down. After a moment of hesitation, they settled down on either side of her. She slowly turned onto her side and curled against Sprocket, resting her head on his shoulder. She made an approving hum when he stroked his hand over her hair.

Then she reached back to find Ace's hand and tugged him closer, until he was lightly pressed along her back. He slid his hand up her arm and gently kneaded at her shoulder, trying to ease some of the tension there, feeling somewhat skittish with it and prepared to stop the moment she gave any indication of discomfort. She just let out a sigh that seemed to come from her toes and let her arm slide across Sprocket's scarred chest, cuddling closer to him.

Sprocket gave the Ace a questioning glance, and Ace nodded and the War Boy settled in, prepared to give comfort for however long their Imperator wanted it.

They’ve known Furiosa as steady as the stones of the Citadel, unshakeable even as raiders seemed to overwhelm them and enemy fire hit from all directions. They’ve known Furiosa as brilliant and shining with her victories and successes and lifting the crew up with her as if they’d the right to share in it. They’ve known her as contemplative and regretful and fond as she bestowed on them alcohol that tasted of the Immortan’s gardens.

But they’ve never seen this.

Ace looked at Sprocket and Sprocket looked back and between them they knew that they were holding her together. He felt honored by her trust even as he felt twisted by the fact that he could see no solution to ease the situation.

It seemed like a long time before the trembling faded and her body relaxed against them. Ace breathed in relief when her breath slowed with sleep. They hadn't really understood what she had needed from them, and maybe she hadn't quite known either, but apparently they hadn't completely failed her.

 


End file.
